I Surrender Who I've Been (For Who You Are)
by SignedXoxoxoNelly
Summary: Of all the connections forged since The 100 landed on the Ground, theirs was the strongest. Based in survival, built upon trust and shared responsibility, furnished with respect and absolution. They saved their people, because that's who they were. They saved each other because that's what they deserved. They will never stop saving each other, together. Bellarke.
1. Sedated

**Title:** I Surrender Who I've Been (For Who You Are)

 **Part 1 of ?:** Sedated

 **Genre:** Romance, Angst, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, Drama

 **Rating:** T, for language and possible sexual situations

 **Word Count:** 689

 **Characters (Fic):** Bellamy Blake, Clarke Griffin, Monty Green, Marcus Kane, Raven Reyes, Lexa

 **Characters (Chapter):** Bellamy Blake, Monty Green, mentions of Clarke Griffin

 **Summary:** Of all the connections forged since The 100 landed on the Ground, theirs was the strongest. Based in survival, built upon trust and shared responsibility, furnished with respect and absolution. They saved their people, because that's who they were. They saved each other because that's what they deserved. They will never stop saving each other, together. Bellarke.

 **A/N:** I've recently become obsessed with this show (finished Seasons 1 & 2 in a weekend), and after watching both seasons, and listening to music I just kept getting so many ideas for Bellamy and Clarke. I started off with just making a list of songs that I felt reflected their relationship and the struggles they've faced and then I began to write bits and pieces of scenes. Some of these scenes are being used for this fic.

So this first chapter is kinda short, just getting you into the setting and mood of where things are starting off for this fic. It takes place after the Season 2 finale. It follows canon up until that point, but may differ from Season 3 because I have a feeling the writers are going to take the show in a very different direction than I am with this fic. Anyways, I hope you enjoy! _xoxoxoNelly_

 **Disclaimer:** I do not own The 100 or any of it's characters. Lyrics are from "Sedated" by Hozier, I don't own those either. Fic title comes from the song "Turning Page" by Sleeping At Last

* * *

" _Any way to distract and sedate_

 _Adding shadows to the walls of the cave_

 _Sedated we're nursing on a poison that never stung_

 _Our teeth and lungs are lined with the scum of it_

 _Somewhere for this, death and guns_

 _We are deaf, we are numb_

 _Free and young and we can feel none of it"_

– "Sedated" by Hozier

* * *

An anger was festering inside of him. An anger that resonated within many members of Camp Jaha.

His anger was directed specifically at Lexa and vaguely at the Grounders. If it hadn't been for Lexa's betrayal, for her severing of their alliance, then he, Monty and Clarke wouldn't have been forced to make such a devastating decision. They wouldn't have had to take so many innocent lives. Clarke wouldn't have been so consumed with guilt and self-loathing that she decided to leave. Bellamy wouldn't have been left alone to deal with the aftermath of the torture conducted on his people, those who he swore to protect, those who he had saved at such a high cost.

However, Bellamy didn't have time for his own anger, he didn't have time to wade through his emotions and deconstruct his guilt. Not when he was kept so busy with his everyday duties around camp.

There was one thing he made time for.

Like clockwork, every other night, he met Monty at what had come to be known as Raven's Gate.

The two young men leaned against the metal walls of the Ark's debris, a bottle of moonshine shared between them, strong enough to dull the ache that ate away at them every day.

Some nights they talked for hours, others they didn't breathe a word. On the hard days—days where Monty had to face Jasper's accusatory gaze and hateful silence, or days when Bellamy was faced with an issue or conflict that he knew Clarke could have resolved but he was helpless to amend—Monty would bring two bottles of moonshine, one for each, and they would drink until they couldn't remember why their day had been so terrible.

Some nights, Bellamy got so lost in the haze of the moonshine that he dropped his guard in front of Monty, and he confessed all of his worries and insecurities about the responsibilities that had been thrust upon him. Responsibilities that once upon a time he had asked for, and now he would give anything to discard them. But he knew he had to keep on shouldering these responsibilities—he had made a promise.

On other nights, it was Monty in the confessional. He spoke about how distraught he was over losing Jasper's friendship repeatedly and how their bond seemed doomed on the ground. He confessed that he didn't regret altering Mount Weather's system to irradiate Level 5 because he knew he had to save his people. He wasn't blinded by love for Maya, he knew that the lives of his people were more important to him and that he only had the one chance to get them out of there.

Neither of them regretted their decision at Mount Weather. But they didn't know how to reconcile who they are know with who that had once been, before the Mountain Men took the 47 hostage, before they landed on this godforsaken planet they now called home.

A friendship developed between the two men that was completely unexpected. But together, they carried the burden of three hundred plus deaths, caused at their hands. Between them was an understanding so deep and respected that they knew they could depend on one another over anyone else, even those in their close circle of friends.

They leaned on each other, because the ones who they would've otherwise leaned upon were no longer there to give support. Jasper and Clarke were both lost to them for the time being, maybe for forever, they had no way of knowing.

"Where do you think she is?" Monty asked one night, clasping his own bottle of moonshine as he stared out into the depths of the forest that surrounded Camp Jaha, where hidden dangers and enemies lay.

Bellamy heaved out a breath, which condensed into a wispy fog before his lips. Winter was fast-approaching. Their first winter on Earth.

"Honestly, I have no idea," Bellamy breathed slowly, trying to control the sudden pounding in his chest, "but wherever the hell she is, I hope she's warm."

Monty nodded slightly, keeping his eyes focused on the trees, "yeah, me too."

* * *

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	2. She Wants To Know

**Title:** I Surrender Who I've Been (For Who You Are)

 **Part 2 of ?:** She Wants To Know

 **Genre:** Romance, Angst, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, Drama

 **Rating:** T, for language, violence and possible future sexual situations

 **Word Count:** 1,001

 **Characters (Fic):** Bellamy Blake, Clarke Griffin, Monty Green, Marcus Kane, Raven Reyes, Lexa

 **Characters (Chapter):** Clarke Griffin, Lexa, mentions of Bellamy

 **Summary:** Of all the connections forged since The 100 landed on the Ground, theirs was the strongest. Based in survival, built upon trust and shared responsibility, furnished with respect and absolution. They saved their people, because that's who they were. They saved each other because that's what they deserved. They will never stop saving each other, together. Bellarke.

 **A/N:** This one is a bit longer than the first chapter, I'm working my way to longer chapters, I promise. I've watched the trailers for season 3 and can safely say that this fic is definitely going to diverge from canon and be AU. Anyways, hope you enjoy, drop a review if you feel like! xoxoNelly

Edit 1/17/16: So, I changed the summary for the fic. xoxoNelly

 **Disclaimer:** I do not own The 100 or any of its characters. The lyrics are from "She Wants To Know" by Half Moon Run.

* * *

" _Find you alone a while_

 _With a heavy hand and a darkened smile_

 _Let her find time to regret_

 _But I still don't know and I really wanna make her mine_

 _She wants to know just who I am_

 _She wants to know just who I am_

 _She can make you work for the worth that she has_

 _She wants to know just who I am"_

"She Wants To Know" by Half Moon Run

* * *

Lexa knew the moment she stepped into her tent that a second, unexpected visitor was present.

"Clarke."

The blonde stepped out of the shadows upon hearing Lexa's greeting, her golden hair a halo around her shoulders, dimmed slightly with dirt and grime. A sharp tang rose from her skin, and Lexa knew it had been a considerable amount of time since Clarke bathed properly.

Clarke had followed her to the Polis. She hadn't expected it, but now that Clarke was here—the hollows beneath her eyes dark from sleepless nights, her body leaner and more toned than Lexa last remembered, her jaw set tensely—Lexa was not surprised in the least.

"What brings you to the Polis, Clarke?"

"You."

In another time, when Lexa was younger and more impressionable, the admission would have made her heart falter when leaving the lips of such a spirited, glorious woman, but Lexa knew better.

The tone of Clarke's voice as she uttered the one word was dark, seething with a bloody rage that emanated from somewhere deep within her body. Lexa could practically see the betrayal radiating from Clarke's fair skin. She refused to let the emotions of this one woman affect her.

Lexa lifted her chin and in a flash, Clarke was a breath away from her, a blade pressed to Lexa's jugular.

Clarke's blue eyes were wild as she stared at her, pressing the blade in closer. Lexa felt her skin pucker, but it did not break or bleed. Clarke's hand was steady, steadier than Lexa had ever seen, and a voice in the back of her mind told her that she could no longer underestimate Clarke, just as she could no longer view Clarke as weak.

"You left my people to die."

Lexa was unfazed by Clarke's words, "I knew you would find another way to succeed. I didn't doubt your abilities for a moment, Clarke." And that was the truth of it. She had made the deal, firstly because it was guaranteed to save her people. Secondly, she knew Clarke would find a way to save her own people, regardless of what the cost to Mount Weather or to herself was.

Clarke snarled at Lexa, "they all died."

For a moment, Lexa's conscience peeked through from behind her carefully crafted veil of indifference as she mistook Clarke's words to mean that the 47 Sky People inside Mount Weather died.

"Because of your selfishness, because of your betrayal, I had to sentence 330 people to their deaths." Clarke's voice was quiet and carefully even but Lexa saw through it.

Guilt.

"But you saved your people?" Lexa asked, "your Bellamy succeeded?"

"Of course." Clarke responded immediately, the blade shifting in her grip.

A tense moment of silence gripped them as Lexa allowed herself to be filled with pride. Clarke had made the right decision, she had saved her people. But the toll it was taking on her now, it reminded Lexa just how soft the Sky People were. Even Clarke, a fearless leader and warrior, was affected by such a decision that would be trivial to Lexa or any other Trikru warrior.

"You're not here to kill me, Clarke," Lexa spoke with a confidence that she didn't completely have faith in.

The Clarke standing in front of her was not the same Clarke who had stood up to the other Clan leaders, she was not the poised and determined leader of the Sky People that Lexa had forged a temporary alliance with.

No, this Clarke was feral, frenzied and ravaged by guilt and self-loathing.

"I could kill you Lexa, you deserve it," Clarke spat the words at the other woman before stepping away, withdrawing her blade.

"Whether I deserve it or not, it seems it is not my time to die." Lexa spoke evenly, lifting her chin, refusing to show any sort of submission to Clarke.

"You keep telling yourself that," Clarke spoke in a droll tone, dragging the tip of her dagger along the wooden top of Lexa's desk where a map of the surrounding area was laid out.

"What are you here for Clarke?" Lexa asked, because she had know from the moment Clarke stepped out of the dark corners of her quarters, she was not here to kill Lexa. She had an ulterior goal in mind, Lexa just hadn't figured out what that was.

"I wanted to see if you even felt the least bit of remorse." Clarke sheathed the short blade into a holster on her thigh, angling her body slightly away from Lexa, facing slightly toward the back entrance to the tent where she must have entered.

"And what have you concluded?" Lexa arched a brow at Clarke, desperately wanting to prolong this encounter, knowing that after this moment it would be a long while before she and Clarke crossed paths again.

"You don't have a heart with which to feel remorse."

The words stung slightly, which Lexa wasn't expecting but she didn't argue the point with Clarke. She did not regret the deal she made with the Mountain Men that freed her people, she did not regret leaving Clarke behind to make her own decisions for her own people. She had not been lying, she had truly believed Clarke would find another way to free her people. Clarke was the most determined woman she had ever met, and she always followed through with her goals, she made things happen. Lexa respected Clarke for those same reasons, but Clarke was not her people, Clarke had made that abundantly clear.

Before Lexa could respond, a wisp of wind curled against her skin and she was alone in her tent. Nothing remained of Clarke except her sharp scent and the fading pressure of the blade that had been pressed to Lexa's throat.

Clarke was a magnificently complex creature, Lexa decided, but altogether too dangerous for her to risk her heart and people on.

* * *

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	3. Comes and Goes (In Waves)

**Title:** I Surrender Who I've Been (For Who You Are)

 **Part 3 of 16:** Comes and Goes (In Waves)

 **Genre:** Romance, Angst, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, Drama

 **Rating:** T, for language, violence and possible future sexual situations

 **Word Count:** 3,117

 **Characters (Fic):** Bellamy Blake, Clarke Griffin, Monty Green, Marcus Kane, Raven Reyes, Lexa

 **Characters (Chapter):** Bellamy, Raven, Kane

 **Summary:** Of all the connections forged since The 100 landed on the Ground, theirs was the strongest. Based in survival, built upon trust and shared responsibility, furnished with respect and absolution. They saved their people, because that's who they were. They saved each other because that's what they deserved. They will never stop saving each other, together. Bellarke.

 **A/N:** So, this one is much longer. For this story I've decided to focus more on the remaining members of the 100 rather than the entire Ark society, and delve into the dynamic of them being set apart from the other members of Camp Jaha. Also, I have seen the season premiere and I loved it and hated it all at the same time, but I'm excited for the season. However, after seeing it, this fic is definitely AU after the season 2 finale.

Thanks for the reviews! Reviews motivate me to insane degrees, and I always love hearing from the readers! Let me know what you think! XoxoNelly

 **Disclaimer:** I do not own The 100 or any of its characters. The lyrics are from "Comes and Goes (In Waves)" by Greg Laswell

* * *

" _This one's for the lonely, the one's that seek and find  
Only to be let down time after time  
This one's for the torn down, the experts at the fall  
Come on friends, get up now, you're not alone at all  
_

 _This is for the ones who stand  
For the ones who try again  
For the ones who need a hand  
For the ones who think they can"_

– " _Comes and Goes (In Waves)" by Greg Laswell_

* * *

The sun was high in the sky, well above the horizon line, a brief reminder of what the warm weather had felt like when they first landed on the Ground. Now, the sun teased them from its distance while the cutting breeze whipped through their camp, stealing any trace amounts of warmth it fine.

Bellamy stared up at the sky, wiping his damp forehead with the back of his forearm before shouldering his jacket back onto his frame. He'd been training with the Guard for the first half of the day and now he had to grab his lunch rations before he was late to his perimeter watch.

He made his way to the mess hall quickly, casting his eyes away from the sky where he had once lived, amongst the people of the Ark.

As he moved, people moved out of his way. Arkers, those who had survived the crash of the Ark—not those who were in the original 100 on the drop ship—were all well aware of who Bellamy Blake was, and whispers usually followed his movements. Even though he had been assured by Kane that his pardon still held true, and people were assured of his loyalty and good heart by his events in helping rescue the 47 from Mount Weather, he still felt singled out by the Arkers.

Then, in the crowd of judgmental faces, he would glimpse one of his people—one of his delinquents who he had sheltered, protected and lead and he'd feel comfortable in his skin once more. No one around him was ever aware he was uncomfortable, because he never allowed his face to show how he felt when people whispered about his assassination attempt on Chancellor Jaha. He would never let himself appear weak in front of people who would capitalize on that weakness. He saved those weak moments for his moonshine sessions with Monty, or when Octavia extended an olive branch to him, or when Raven felt particularly tender in between her bouts of bickering with Wick.

He glanced at the clock on the wall of the mess hall as he gathered his rations and took note in the fact that he had twenty minutes left till he needed to report to his post—enough time to actually sit down to eat.

He spotted an empty table several feet away from the congregation of other Arkers who were enjoying their lunch and he set his course for that destination.

He should've known he wouldn't be allowed to eat his lunch in peace.

"Hey," Raven said as she suddenly appeared at his elbow.

He glanced down at her out of the corner of his eye to see her face serious and stern.

"What can I do for you, Raven?" He asked, his eyes darting to the still empty table longingly. There was a book in the breast pocket of his Ark-issued Guard vest that he desperately wanted to lose himself in for the next fifteen minutes.

"I need to talk to you." She paused as she waited for him to make a move to follow her. He didn't and she sighed, "it's important. And it needs to be said in private."

Bellamy sighed resignedly before nodding consent and following her to the workshop that she and Wick shared.

He set his food down on her work bench and began to eat, raising an eyebrow to gesture for her to talk.

She took a deep breath as she pushed herself up onto a stool, settling her bad leg on the rung of the stool. She nodded once to herself before lifting her eyes to Bellamy.

"I've been talking with some of the other members of the 100," she began and Bellamy arched both brows, wondering where this would be going, "and some concerns have been brought to me."

"Brought to you?" He asked after swallowing a dry bite of food. Usually the one hundred referred their issues and problems to him, they still considered them their leader, or at least their representative.

"Yeah, you've been busy. Everyone's noticed how you've been working with Kane and the Guard."

"It's what's expected of me, I need to have some sort of position here."

"I know," Raven said with a nod, "let me continue."

They locked eyes for a moment and it began to dawn on Bellamy how serious this conversation would be. He nodded, signaling for her to go on.

"The 100 feel mistreated." She spoke bluntly.

"Mistreated? By who?"

"You know who, Bellamy," she said, annoyance lighting her tone, "by the Arkers, by the Council."

"There isn't even a real Council yet, Raven."

"Exactly. And when there is one, there still won't be anyone on it who will represent us."

Bellamy couldn't argue. Regardless of how much Kane seemed to approve of him, he didn't think Kane's opinion alone would gain him a spot on the Council.

Clarke would've been given a seat, easily.

Not Bellamy, not everyone viewed him as level-headed. He was good muscle, but not a good mind.

"See, even you know that they won't choose one of the 100 to be on the Council. We'll never have a say in anything."

Bellamy wanted to argue that things would still be fair, that they could discuss their issues with a member of the council and make changes to their society, but deep in his heart, he knew that it was all wishful thinking.

"Raven-" he started, willing to play devil's advocate but she quickly cut him short.

"No, Bellamy. They still treat us like we're children, like we're _criminals_. Even you, Bellamy. Kane may like you now, but Abby still doesn't trust you, most of the adults don't. They don't trust any of us, even after everything we've done, after everything we've been through."

"What do you want me to say, Raven?" His voice sounded tired and foreign to him. And never in his whole time on the Ground had he felt so old, so worn down, so helpless.

"Say you'll stand up for us. Say you'll fight for us." Raven's eyebrows were low over her eyes, her expression serious, sharp determination in her features.

"And what if I don't?" He asked, leaning back from the work bench, his lunch forgotten.

"We fight without you." She paused, "I know you're stubborn as hell, Bellamy, but you're not stupid. You know I have a point, you know this isn't what Clarke would've wanted for us."

"Don't talk about her like she's dead." He snapped back harshly.

"We don't know that she's alive," Raven replied quickly but continued on, "she risked everything to save our people, she made decisions I know she regrets but they were decisions she had to make, to save us. She wouldn't want us living like we're still prisoners, afraid that any wrong move could end up with us being exiled or locked up in a cell." Raven paused, swallowing thickly, her mouth having gone dry from her constant talking.

"We deserve a say, Bellamy. We may be a minority, but we were here first—we know the Ground better than anyone, we're the reason they're all alive to begin with. But they don't look at it like that, they act like they're doing us the favor by coming down here and restricting our rights and treating us like we're dangerous and might suddenly attack them at a moment's notice."

"Raven," he cut her off, his voice low and hoarse, "we can't have a civil war right now, not with tensions so high with the Grounders. Our alliance isn't worth shit right now because Lexa abandoned us and Clarke is gone. If we start some sort of unrest inside our own camp, it's condemning us all to death. We'll kill each other and then the Grounders will swoop in and finish off who ever survived. Then, it would be all for nothing."

"It's worth a shot, Bellamy." Her brows were furrowed as she stared up at him. She sighed, "at least come to the meeting."

"Meeting?" He asked, arching a brow.

"Monty and I, we've recruited a few people. People who are unhappy with how the Chancellor and her advisers are running things, people who are unhappy with how we're treated." She paused, settling her hands in her lap, "we're meeting tonight, to talk things over, to figure out what kind of action we should take."

"So you're going to do this, regardless of what I think?" He asked, staring at the wall in front of him and not at her.

"I told you already, we'll fight with or without you." She answered resolutely, but her voice wasn't as sharp as it was the first time she spoke the words. He knew she wanted him on her side of this fight, but he didn't know if he could promise that. He didn't know if he could fight in another war so soon, after what the last two had done to him physically and mentally.

"Even if it's a death sentence for everyone in Camp Jaha, including yourself?"

"If we don't fight for freedom, then why fight for anything else?"

Silence stretched between them as Bellamy turned away, his eyes finding an analog clock on a small wooden table, noting it was time for him to report to guard duty. He had to go out and watch the perimeter, to guard his people from the enemies that could be roving just at the edge of the forest. But enemies were already inside the camp, enemies that the camp had created.

"I hope to see you there tonight, Bellamy. We're meeting at our gate." She spoke softly and then stood slowly, propping her bad leg on the ground carefully before turning and disappearing into the bowels of the workshop.

Bellamy sighed, lifting his eyes upward, raking his fingers through his hair, feeling at a loss. Clarke would know what to do.

What would Clarke do?

Fight? Probably. She was a fighter, she was big on justice and freedom, and she didn't agree with the Ark's sense of justice.

So should he fight, in Clarke's honor, in Clarke's place?

He didn't know, he didn't have any answers, he wasn't even sure he had any fight left in him.

* * *

The sun had set well before he left his post, the next rotation of the Guard coming to watch over the camp throughout the night.

He knew he needed to eat, after having lost his appetite during his conversation with Raven. He'd never finished his lunch and his stomach was rumbling inside him, but he ignored it. He had felt the gnawing of hunger before, fare worse than this. In the early days, at the drop ship camp, resources had been spread thin and they didn't know what was safe to eat on the ground. He'd been hungry them, he could handle this.

Plus, he had more important matters to handle.

He navigated his way through the camp, on his way to main entrance of the Alpha Station wreckage, where Councilor Kane had his quarters.

He rapped his knuckles against the metal archway and a voice from inside bid him entrance.

"Bellamy," Kane greeted with a kind smile as the younger man entered.

"Sir," Bellamy responded with a curt nod.

"No formalities necessary, it's just you and me here," Kane said, waving a hand at him, he'd told Bellamy he didn't need to address him in such a way on various occasions, but old habits were hard to kick when you'd been part of the working class your whole life.

Bellamy's shoulders relaxed slightly and Kane motioned for him to have a seat. He fell into the chair heavily, his hands coming to rest on his knees, gripping reflexively for a moment as he collected his thoughts.

"We need to find Clarke."

His own words shocked him, but he lifted his head, his eye's meeting Kane's and found that his shock was not mirrored there.

Kane nodded, "I agree."

"You do?" Bellamy asked, face shifting as he tried to comprehend the Councilor's words.

"I'm not blind to the opinions of our people, Bellamy. I've noticed how unhappy the survivors of the original one hundred are."

"You have?" Bellamy couldn't help sounding so dense, this wasn't the direction he had thought this conversation would go. He thought he was going to have to snitch on his people, be the one who gave them up. He had resigned himself to the hatred that would be directed at him, he had accepted that they wouldn't look at him as one of their own anymore.

"They want change." Kane said in an understanding tone, splaying his hands out in gesture before resting them on the arms of his chair, reclining back slightly.

"They want revolution." Bellamy corrected quickly, "and they'll have it, one way or another."

"And you don't think they should?" Kane asked, fishing for Bellamy's true opinion on the situation, wanting to know where the young man stood.

"I think it's bad timing for a revolution. I think if they revolt now, we'll open ourselves up to Grounder attacks and we'll be slaughtered."

Kane nodded slowly, resting the side of his hand against his mouth as he stared across the room at nothing.

"Do you agree with their views? Do you think they're being treated unfairly?"

"I think we're not given enough credit." Neither man missed Bellamy's inclusion of himself with the Ark's opposition. "We were sent down here with no plan, no advice, no way to contact the Ark. We were sent here to die, no one expected us to survive. But we did, and without us, most of the Ark survivors would've died too. You came down here and tried to apply the law of the Ark to people on the Ground and it's not the same. The Grounders' society doesn't function like the Ark's society, the community that we had created, didn't function like the Ark but the Council ignored that completely."

Bellamy leaned back in his seat, realizing his mouth and mind had been running away from him. His eyes cast apologetically to the floor and in the back of his mind he wondered when he had become so submissive. Before Camp Jaha, he was strong, he was ruthless and unwavering. He was a leader.

Now, his master had come home and like the bitch they trained him to be, he cowered under their might and authority.

Maybe Raven did have a point.

Kane was watching him, he could feel the older man's eyes, but he didn't lift his gaze to meet them. Instead, he lifted his eyes and stared at the wall, unflinching, jaw clenched.

"Now, the Ark is facing the repercussions of forcing it's laws and customs onto people who had no need for them." Kane spoke slowly, his eyes distant, his fingertips brushing his chin contemplatively.

Bellamy's eyes flew to Kane as the words left the man's lips.

"I'm not saying the way we were doing it was the best way. Sure, we had some major flaws in our dynamic, but we were surviving despite everything, we were thriving. We were living up to our potentials."

"And now you're not?"

"We were labeled as criminals on the Ark, we were those who didn't fit into your norms and your rules. We don't think like those on the Ark do, we're creative in ways the Council couldn't imagine That's why we survived. We saw how the Ark worked and how we benefited from that," Bellamy smiled sarcastically with those words, "and we decided we didn't want to be the same as the place that outcast us and condemned us to death."

"On the Ark, you never would've been a leader," Kane said the words, not judgmentally, just speaking a fact that was absolutely true.

"I was a janitor, and that's all I ever would've been." Bellamy stated the honest truth.

"Now, these people see you as a hero." Kane countered.

"Clarke is the hero." Bellamy brushed off the compliment easily, a well-practiced move. He wasn't the one who deserved praise, he wasn't a good person naturally. Not like Clarke was.

"No, Bellamy, you're just as much a hero as Clarke is and those of the one hundred who have made it this far, they recognize that. They will follow you, not just Clarke."

"Are you saying I should have them follow me into a civil war?" Bellamy questioned, his tone uncertain.

"I'm saying, maybe Camp Jaha isn't the best place for your people." Kane spoke the words carefully.

"You think we should leave? And go where? Into the heart of Grounder territory where they already hate us."

"I think Clarke could be able to negotiate something with the Grounders."

"A treaty, where we're given land. We don't have anything to offer them, especially not if we separate ourselves from Camp Jaha. They'd break this treaty just like they did the last one. Lexa wouldn't have it, even if Clarke asked for it."

"Then come up with a better plan, Bellamy. I have faith in you. I give you the credit you deserve. I respect you, for what you've done for your people, for our people. I respect the decisions you've made and the lengths you've had to go to protect your own. Despite what you may think, you're a good leader. You're a good man," Kane leaned forward in his seat, reaching out, placing a warm hand on Bellamy's shoulder, locking their gazes.

"I still think we should find Clarke." Bellamy said, his voice suddenly quiet, his core suddenly shaking.

Kane nodded, "we should, we will."

"Because if you think I'm a good leader, then you must think she's the greatest thing to ever come out of the Ark." Bellamy spoke the words jokingly, but a hint of admiration lit his tone—an admiration that Kane shared with the young man.

"She very well might be," Kane said wistfully as he removed his hand from Bellamy's shoulder, resting on the arm of the chair, scratching his fingers against the material, grounding himself in the moment.

"She is," Bellamy said, not an ounce of uncertainty in his voice, "she's the best thing to have ever walked on the Ground."

* * *

 _Reviews are much appreciated xo_


	4. Doubt

**Title:** I Surrender Who I've Been (For Who You Are)

 **Part 4 of 16:** Doubt

 **Genre:** Romance, Angst, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, Drama

 **Rating:** T, for language and possible sexual situations

 **Word Count:** 4,328

 **Characters (Fic):** Bellamy Blake, Clarke Griffin, Monty Green, Marcus Kane, Raven Reyes, Lexa

 **Characters (Chapter):** Clarke Griffin, Bellamy Blake, Raven Reyes, Monty Green, Nathan Miller, Octavia Blake, Monroe, Harper

 **Summary:** Of all the connections forged since The 100 landed on the Ground, theirs was the strongest. Based in survival, built upon trust and shared responsibility, furnished with respect and absolution. They saved their people, because that's who they were. They saved each other because that's what they deserved. They will never stop saving each other, together. Bellarke.

 **A/N:** Sorry for the wait, the spring semester began and I've been bogged down with school and other responsibilities. Anyways, thank you so much to everyone who reviewed the last chapter, I really adore you all. This chapter moves the plot along and sets up the major arc of the fic. Clarke and Bellamy are still on different paths at the moment, but do not fear, the reunion is coming soon!

 **Disclaimer:** I do not own The 100 or any of it's characters. Lyrics are from "Doubt" by Twenty One Pilots.

* * *

" _Scared of my own image, scared of my own immaturity_

 _Scared my own ceiling, scared I'll die of uncertainty,_

 _Fear might be the death of me, fear leads to anxiety_

 _Don't know what's inside of me_

 _Don't forget about me,_

 _Don't forget about me,_

 _Even when I doubt you,_

 _I'm no good without you, no, no"_

– "Doubt" by Twenty One Pilots

* * *

The forest is completely silent around her, save for the soft pants escaping her chapped lips, but she tried to mute that sound too. She held her body completely still, knowing one foul movement could cost her not just her prey, but her life.

She focused her mind her on physical body, listening to her quickened heartbeat and fast breaths. Slowly, she counted in her head, and with every number her heartbeat slowed down a fraction until it was near it's resting rate. Her breaths slowed as well, following her heart's lead, lack of oxygen no longer driving her to suck in air quickly. Her nervous system calmed as well, her body no longer frenzied in its voluntary actions.

Finally, she felt ready to continue with this hunt.

Her body was perched in a way that left the top half of her body lurched forward, her stance off-balance. One wrong move and she could collapse and her prey would become the predator.

Taking in a slow, deep breath, she lifted her spine until it was straight. Then, painstakingly slowly, she began to inch her right foot out to widen her stance.

A sudden, sharp crunch echoed from beneath her heel and she cursed immediately as the forest around her began to rustle.

Her eyes scanned the foliage around her until she spotted them.

Two yellow, luminescent eyes glowed through the undergrowth at her.

She was gone in a moment, her feet carrying her in the opposite direction of those eyes. She zig-zagged through the towering trees, hearing the thundering paw steps of the panther hot on her heels.

She cursed under her breath as the forest blurred past her.

Hopping up onto a boulder, she used her momentum to propel her in another direction suddenly. The panther barreled through, at the last minute digging it's front claws into the dirt, causing its body to whip in a sharp arc to continue chasing after her.

Her pulse was thrumming in her ears again and her legs burned, but she couldn't stop.

 _Bodies. Bodies everywhere._

The images that suddenly burst forth in her mind caused her to gasp, but her feet remained sure-footed as she continued running, dodging between tree trunks, trying to throw off the panther to no avail.

 _Children, dead children slumped over their dinner plates._

Her throat burned, whether from her ragged breathing or from the emotions that suddenly overtook her, she couldn't tell. She chanced a glance over her shoulder, the panther was still only a few yards behind her and making up ground quickly with its long strides.

 _Maya, breathless and blistered, cradled in Jasper's shaking arms._

She stumbled, her toes catching on the root of a tree and braced herself for the fall. She rolled through it, pushing herself up and to the left roughly as the panther pounced onto the dirt where her head had been a moment before.

She was back on her feet, facing the panther as it snarled, drawing itself together, muscles bunching and rippling as it prepared to pounce.

Without a moment's hesitation the panther leaped, landing on top of Clarke heavily, but she was ready, her hunting knife lodging itself between the panther's ribs, causing the animal to yowl in pain.

It rolled off of her and Clarke held steady to her blade, it came away covered in thick, viscous blood, dripping down onto her knuckles where she gripped the hilt so tight her skin bleached white like bone.

 _Finn's crimson blood dying her fingertips._

She pushed herself to her feet quickly, not even stopping to see how bad the damage to the panther was, and she turned quickly. She ran again and moment's later, she heard the panther heave itself to its feet and continue the chase.

The trees began to thin around her and she knew immediately where the chase had led.

She glanced over her shoulder. The panther was fighting through the pain of the stab wound, it's strides only slightly hindered as it favored it's left side.

" _Murderer."_

She swallowed past the voices echoing in her skull as moss and dirt and shrubs gave was to rock and the lines of tree trunks thinned out.

The sound of rushing water was suddenly all around her. She didn't have to look behind her to know the panther was still following, incited by rage and the need to capture it's prey.

" _Monster."_

Clarke sucked in a breath and jumped.

For a long, extended moment she was completely weightless. All of her emotions and insecurities and guilt vanished as her body fell from the cliff side.

The yowl of the panther followed after her, echoing down the granite walls, disappearing into the rush of water.

She hit the surface harder than she remembered it ever feeling before, and she fought against the instinct to gasp as she was suddenly submerged. Kicking her strong legs, she pushed upwards, fighting against the urge to let herself drift downward into the dark nothingness below.

She broke the surface with cleared mind and she glanced around quickly as she began to tread water.

Blood stained a large boulder to her right and she deftly swam around to the other side of the rock to see the twisted body of the panther lying beside it. It's blood dyed the edges of the pool a diluted red.

Clarke pulled herself form the water and regained her feet, staggering slightly.

Her feet ached from the running, her whole body throbbed from the force with which she hit the water. She was glad she had practiced the jump to near perfection, or else her fate would have been similar to the panther's.

She crouched and watched the panther's body with the analytical eyes of a doctor, checking for breaths but there were none. She had figured there wouldn't be due to the awkward angle of the beast's neck, but it was a better practice to make sure the animal was dead before she approached it.

Rolling up her soaked sleeves, she trudged toward the mangled body and grasped it beneath its front arms and began to pull its body up onto the shore, out of the water's greedy reach.

Once it was on dry land, she removed her hunting knife from the holster on her thigh and she set to skinning and sectioning off the animals flesh. Some of the meat she wrapped in large leaves she'd gathered the day before. These portions she would salt and dry to be eaten later in the winter when prey was more scarce. The rest of the meat she would wrap and trade at a nearby post for more supplies.

She didn't know how long winter would last, she had been in the throes of it for the last two months and she figured it would probably last another two more before the sun won out and shone through the sky in it's dominance.

Until then, she needed to make sure she had enough food to survive. This panther would provide her plenty to work with. A good hide for a warmer cloak and to line her bedroll, organ meat to provide her the nutrients she'd been lacking since she left Camp Jaha, bones she could sharpen into arrowheads for when she could hunt deer and pheasant again.

Her task took most of the afternoon, she set up her tent a few yards inside the treeline, in an inconspicuous grove of trees growing closely together. She was close enough to her kill that she would know if another man or beast tried to poach it, but far enough away to remain hidden from a passerby or other predator.

She made a small fire, and roasted some of the panther meat over the flame. She wasn't hungry, but she forced herself to finish off a slab of meat, knowing she needed to keep her fat stores, as well as her strength up for the winter.

Snow had not occurred as of yet, but it could happen at any time and if she wasn't prepared, it could spell her death.

She gave her mind over to instinct as she doused her fire and slipped into her bedroll, curling into the warm mix of Ark fabric and animal pelts that provided her warmth.

Through a torn hole in her tent, she could just glimpse the heavy, full moon between the shadowed branches of the trees around her.

She gave herself up to the forest, to the moon, to the sky above her. Allowing her mind to grow silent, allowing sleep to take her for just a few, short hours before she rose and let survival drive her once more, deeper into the woods, deeper into a place where she did not need to be a leader or a savior.

But, soon after sleep came, the voices and the bodies and the blood followed and she awoke to her own screaming, tears clouding her vision.

She finished off the panther, gathered up her tent and furs, strapping them to her pack, and she moved on.

She ran from the voices and the bodies and the blood. Hoping one day she would come across a place where they could not follow, a sanctuary where they could not find her.

She had not found that place yet, and with each day, she began to think it didn't exist at all.

She kept searching, even as her feet bled and her heart grew cold and distant.

* * *

Bellamy dropped himself heavily onto the bench that had been erected at Raven's Gate by Miller and Monroe shortly after the return of the 47 from Mount Weather.

Even though Raven's Gate wasn't much more than a gap in the electric fence that outlined the perimeter of Camp Jaha, it was a symbol of something much more to the Delinquents. It was the gateway they had passed through in attempts to escape the Council, it stood as some sort of statement that the 100 could not be stopped, could not be told what to do by the Arkers.

Raven glanced up at Bellamy from where she sat at the other end of the bench, "you came."

"Course I did, since you asked so nicely," he drawled sarcastically as he swung his rifle onto his back. His eyes stared out at the treeline, his instinct to keep watch over his people ever present.

Raven chuckled at his comment and shook her head.

"So, who else have you roped into this?" He asked, eyes glancing about, trying to determine if any Arkers were watching, but he found no prying eyes.

"I haven't 'roped' anyone into this. Anyone who shows up tonight comes of their own free will, not because I persuaded them into attending." Raven argued, but a serious tone colored her voice, causing Bellamy to swallow and nod.

They sat alone in silence for several moments until Monty joined them. The younger man smiled slightly at Bellamy before holding out a bottle to him.

"Figured since we're kinda messing with our routine," Monty explained as Bellamy took the bottle, uncorking the top and taking a swig.

The strong liquid burned down his throat as he swallowed but Bellamy relished the feeling, nodding in gratitude to Monty, who sat down across from Raven.

Moments later Miller, Harper and Monroe appeared, walking together and taking seats on either side of Monty. All four sat across from Bellamy and Raven, and he knew it was a sign of deferment from them. They still looked to him as a leader, and in Clarke's absence, they also looked to Raven knowing her strong mind and will.

"All right," Raven said, wiping her palms along her thighs, "everyone's here."

"This is everyone?" Bellamy asked.

"If the group was any larger we would draw Abby's attention."

The use of Chancellor Griffin's first name caught Bellamy off-guard for a moment. He knew Abby and Raven had a bond from their time working together on the Ark, and then as doctor and patient after Raven was shot, but he couldn't figure how Raven's decision to leave Camp Jaha coincided with her friendship with Abby.

Bellamy just stared at Raven, waiting for her to continue.

She turned away from the older man, and instead turned to the four sitting front of her.

"As you guys can see, I told Bellamy about what we've been feeling, and thinking."

"And planning," Bellamy quipped, taking another swig of moonshine.

Raven shot him a glare, "there is no set plan, Bellamy."

"You sure didn't make it sound that way this morning," he argued, "you made it sound like you were ready to attack tomorrow."

"Hey, we don't want it to come to that," Monty spoke quickly, "we don't want a war."

Bellamy rolled his eyes, "what do you think is going to happen? You're going to ask the Chancellor to be allowed to leave and just expect her to agree with you and grant you passage? She'll never go for that, no matter how nicely you ask, or who asks for you," Bellamy's eyes cut over to Raven.

"It's too much of a risk to lose that many people, they need numbers here in Camp Jaha so that if the Grounders attack they have more soldiers to hit back with."

"We're not soldiers," Miller said, "we're not even real members of the Guard."

Bellamy couldn't argue with the younger man, Bellamy was training alongside the Guard, but he hadn't been awarded his old title of cadet, nor had he been promoted to the rank of Guard. He didn't know what he was, but they sure as hell needed him.

"We're not trained soldiers. But we know war, each and every one of us from the original drop has experienced war first hand. They need our experience." Bellamy said, setting the bottle of moonshine aside.

"And what do we get in return?" Harper asked, "they were so reluctant to save us from Mount Weather, nothing would have ever happened if not for Clarke. Yet you say they need us. They didn't seem to feel that way when we were kept hostage and harvested for our bone marrow."

Bellamy's jaw set tensely, he knew she had a point, it was an argument he had wrestled with many times. He struggled with his responsibility for his people and how it conflicted with the goals of the Ark daily, each time he listened to Kane and Abby and Sinclair in one of their unofficial Council meetings.

"We're not here to fight amongst ourselves," Raven interjected, she sighed then turned her eyes to Monroe. "Tell Bellamy about your experience," she prodded the girl.

Monroe nodded once, her eyes staring into the dirt, "it was the week that flu spread through camp like wildfire," she began, her eyes shifting unsteadily as she spoke, "Olivier was already getting better, but he was too weak to go to the mess hall to get his dinner, so I offered to go get both of our meals and bring them back to the cabin to eat together."

She swallowed and something inside of Bellamy's chest clenched as her lip trembled.

"I filled up my tray with both of our meals, taking two of everything. When I was on my way out of the mess hall, two cadets stopped me." Her voice faltered and Harper placed a hand on the girls shoulder.

"They pushed me back into the wall, asking me what I thought I was doing. I tried to explain to them that I was just getting Olivier his dinner, but they didn't believe me. They said, 'a dirty criminal like me, will always be a criminal, not even the Ground can change that.' Then they told me, if they had any say, none of the delinquents would be allowed to eat their meals at the mess hall, they'd be forced back into their cells where they belong."

When she looked up at Bellamy, her eyes were burning, "they flipped my tray into the dirt and then told me to eat my dinner off the ground, like the delinquent pig I am. They shoved my face into the dirt and put their boots on my back and held me down until I licked the stew off the ground. They kicked me in the ribs and then left me there in the dirt."

Bellamy was shocked as she finished speaking. He knew there were tensions between Arkers and the Delinquents, but he never thought things had gone this awry.

"Did you tell the Chancellor about this?"

"I told one of the Guards on duty, but he said there was no point taking the issue to the Chancellor. Said she had more important things to worry about than my wounded pride," Monroe answered, a hint of bitterness in her voice, and Bellamy thought she was entitled to the sentiment.

A growl echoed deep in Bellamy's chest as he suddenly pushed himself to his feet. He paced for several moments before turning back to the group, "are there others who have been treated this way? Any of you?"

Harper and Monty nodded and Bellamy's stomach dropped to the floor, and the ground opened up beneath him, swallowing him whole as he listened to Harper and Monty and Miller as they told him of the unfair treatment, the bullying, the slander, the hatred that was being thrown at them. Words spilled from their mouths, stories of being treated separately, harsher duties around camp, unwarranted unfairness.

How had he not noticed how bad things had gotten?

Had he been too wrapped up in himself to even notice?

Had he been too enraptured in his loss of Clarke to not see what was happening right in front of him?

Shame flooded through his system. He was supposed to watch over them. He had made a promise.

"Bellamy," Raven spoke softly as Monty finished his own testimony, "this isn't just us trying to be rebellious teenagers. We have good reasons for wanting to leave."

"I know," he whispered, his voice low, "but we can't do anything drastic, not yet."

His eyes swept over the five people gathered before him, "I need time to figure things out. I need time to make a plan, to make sure we have a safe place to go to. I can't lead us out of here without knowing we have somewhere to go. I won't lead us out into our deaths."

He'd promised Clarke he'd watch over them.

So far he'd failed.

"We can give you some time, Bellamy, but we can't wait forever," Monty said.

"I know, I don't know how long I need, but-" Bellamy stopped short, placing his hands on his hips, "I can't do anything without a plan."

"Okay, make a plan Bellamy, then tell us what we need to do," Raven said, looking to the others for agreement. Miller, Monroe, Monty and Harper all nodded and Bellamy felt some of the tension in his shoulders ease, knowing they didn't expect a solution by the time the sun rose the next morning.

Bellamy, paused, Kane's earlier suggestion dancing on the edge of his tongue.

"I talked to Councilor Kane earlier today," he said suddenly, just as the group was about to disperse.

Raven stopped and turned to him, "about this?"

"In a way," he replied and betrayal fell over the dark-haired woman's face.

"How could you?" She seethed, rounding on him, her slight limp barely deterring her.

He held up his hands in front of him, "before you jump down my throat, Kane supports this. He also supports my idea to find Clarke."

Raven's expression calmed into one of muted shock, "you're going after Clarke?"

Bellamy nodded slowly, "Kane thinks Clarke can negotiate with Lexa to give us a parcel of land that our people could move to."

There was no question as to who he was referring to when he said "our people." The survivors of the 100, the delinquents, the 47.

"I'll go with you," Monty immediately volunteered. Bellamy looked at him with raised eyebrows and the Asian teen responded with, "I know you're not going out there alone."

"I'll go too," Miller added, standing up from where he'd remained sitting.

"Me too," Harper offered and Bellamy held out a hand to stop them.

"Slow down. First, Monty, I need you here. The others will listen to you and Raven while I'm gone, I need someone I can trust here to keep things calm until I have things figured out. And Harper, I know you're feeling back to normal, but you're still recovering from Mount Weather. I can't put you into another possibly dangerous situation again so soon."

"So, you'll take me," Miller said.

Bellamy met the younger man's eyes and nodded once, "I trust you Miller, you're a good fighter, not a half-bad shot and I know you've got my back."

Bellamy turned to Monroe, "I was planning on asking you to join too," he said to the young girl.

She looked surprised, then honored, the determination set her jaw and she nodded in agreement.

"A three man team is best, less conspicuous, our absence won't be noticed right away and we'll be able to get a good head start in case any retrieval teams are sent out after us by the Chancellor." Bellamy explained and the others nodded.

"I need to talk to Councilor Kane before we head out. So I'd say we'd leave in two days time, during the changing of guards after evening meal. It will be hard traveling through the woods at night, but we know this area, I'm confident we can make it through. And by the time we reach unfamiliar territory, it'll be daylight."

"And no one will notice you're gone until the morning, you'll have plenty of time to put a lot of ground between yourselves and camp," Raven added and Bellamy nodded at her in acknowledgment.

"Sounds like a good plan," Miller said, crossing his arms over his chest. "I'm in."

"Me too." Monroe agreed.

A corner of Bellamy's mouth twitched upward and he nodded once, his thumb sliding along the bridge of his nose before he looked up at them again, "good. Until then, we go about thing's as usual. Don't draw attention to the situation, don't talk about it around anyone, don't talk about it all, actually."

Everyone nodded in agreement.

"Good, we meet back here in two days time."

Then, he turned and left the group, a thousand thoughts running through his mind of how badly this could all go, all the possible worst-case scenarios.

"Bellamy."

The voice that calls out to him is a voice he would know anywhere, just as the dark eyes that meet his when he turns toward the voice are eyes he knows as well as his own—like he's looking into a mirror.

Octavia stands before him, her back straight and shoulders set, like she's ready for battle.

A battle with him, he realizes.

"What is it, O?" He asks, playing innocent, when he already knows that she's very aware of where he just came from. He wonders if Octavia had overheard the meeting, who else might have caught their words and plannings. Worry gnaws at his gut but he pushes it aside as his sister approaches him.

"You're going after Clarke now?" She asks, her eyes drifting over him, taking him in, noting every line of exhaustion in his face, every ache in his muscles.

"Octavia," he starts but she cuts him off.

"She's been gone for three months and now you decide to go after her?" She sounds exasperated and annoyed and more than a little pissed off.

"We need her, O," he argued weakly.

"She left me to die in Tondc," Octavia spoke swiftly, but dispassionately, "she didn't even tell you I was there, she let you think I was safe when she knew I was probably going to be blown to pieces, and still you look at her as if she's your only hope at fixing anything."

"I know what Clarke did, Octavia," and he did, Raven had told him, she'd explained Clarke's reasoning and he'd understood it. He'd been angry as hell, but he'd understood why Clarke didn't tell him and he respected her decision. She was right, if he'd known that Octavia was in harms way he wouldn't lost focus and he would've gotten a lot more of their people killed. He also understood that Clarke had made the decision not to evacuate Tondc because of him. She'd sacrificed the village in exchange for his safety, because she believed in him, she put her faith in him to get their people out of that mountain.

She'd indirectly killed 300 people to save his life.

"And yet you're still going after her?" Octavia challenged.

"I have to," he shot back, but exhaustion was pulling at his limbs. He and Octavia had had this fight thousands of times before, in many different arenas, with several different insults thrown with intent to hurt. He didn't want to hurt her, he didn't want to be hurt, he was tired. God, he was so fucking tired.

"I can't do this with you now, Octavia." And with that he turned away from her, heading to the small cabin he stayed in alone.

"You don't need her to survive, Bellamy." Octavia called after him.

If Octavia thought that, then maybe she didn't know him as well as she thought she did.

* * *

 _Review please? xo_


	5. Dream

**Title:** I Surrender Who I've Been (For Who You Are)

 **Part 5 of 16:** Dream

 **Genre:** Romance, Angst, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, Drama

 **Rating:** T, for language and possible sexual situations

 **Word Count:** 4,416

 **Characters (Fic):** Bellamy Blake, Clarke Griffin, Monty Green, Marcus Kane, Raven Reyes, Lexa

 **Characters (Chapter):** Bellamy, Jasper, Monty, Miller, Raven, Monroe, Kane, Octavia, Lincoln

 **Summary:** Of all the connections forged since The 100 landed on the Ground, theirs was the strongest. Based in survival, built upon trust and shared responsibility, furnished with respect and absolution. They saved their people, because that's who they were. They saved each other because that's what they deserved. They will never stop saving each other, together. Bellarke.

 **A/N:** This chapter is a beast, I'm sorry. I didn't realize how wordy I would get, but it's necessary. Some of you were asking where Lincoln is, and well, he's here. I couldn't leave one of my favorite characters out!

To those of you who reviewed, thank you so very much! I appreciate each review so deeply! I hope to hear from more of you, let me know what you think about this chapter!

xoxoxoNelly

 **Disclaimer:** I do not own The 100 or any of it's characters. Lyrics are from "Dream" by Imagine Dragons.

* * *

" _I know all your reasons to keep me from seeing_

 _Everything is actual a mess, but now I am leaving_

 _All of us were only dreaming, everything is actually a mess_

 _We all are living in a dream_

 _But life ain't what it seems_

 _Oh everything's a mess_

 _And all these sorrows I have seen_

 _They lead me to believe_

 _That everything's a mess_

 _But I wanna dream_

 _I wanna dream_

 _Leave me to dream"_

– "Dream" by Imagine Dragons

* * *

Bellamy stepped out into camp before the sun had even crested the horizon line. Darkness still reigned over the inhabitants of Camp Jaha, trapping them in their sleep and keeping them inside their dwellings for a few more precious hours before they would awake to begin their day's work.

Bellamy estimated the time to be shortly before five, based on the degree of darkness cast around him as he moved across camp, heading toward the mess hall.

One of the 47, Amanda, was working in the kitchens alone at this time, preparing for the breakfast rush that would begin after the sun rose. He nodded in greeting, asking for one breakfast serving, explaining he had an early shift on the perimeter this morning.

She made small talk as she made his tray, asking him how Guard training was going and other harmless questions. He responded in kind, exchanging pleasantries as he watched her fill the plate.

She handed it over, "be safe, Bellamy," she said with a knowing look.

He paused for a moment, meeting her gaze and holding it as he processed the underlying meaning to her words. She knew of the plan, that much was obvious. He nodded and then took his tray and turned, leaving the mess hall and heading back toward the newest section of cabins that had been built.

In the far west corner of the camp, construction had just finished barely two weeks before on a block of log cabins which now housed the remaining Delinquents who made Camp Jaha their home for the time being.

Bellamy had never looked deeper into the fact that the 47 were built homes in their own separate section of camp. He thought it was just out of convenience, because the 47 knew each other, they had deep bonds and they were all the same age group. It was a natural idea to house them together.

But, as Bellamy thought on it now, even members of the 47 who had family living in the camp lived in these cabins, away from their relatives. They had been assigned these dwellings.

Even Bellamy's own personal cabin was located in this small section, as well as the empty cabin next to his that had been built for Clarke.

He followed a small pathway between the rows of cabins until he came to the last cabin of the first row.

He didn't knock before he entered, the inhabitants of this cabin knew the routine well.

Monty was still snoring softly in his bunk, but Miller's bed was empty. Olivier and Troy were both asleep as well in their bunks.

But, alone in the corner of the cabin, where the small stone fireplace was set into the wall, sat a lone figure on a cot, a blanket drawn up around his thin shoulders as he stared into the flickering flames.

Bellamy made his way over to the figure, and just like always, he set the breakfast tray down on the cot next to the young man, and then pulled up a stool for himself, sitting before the fire.

Jasper didn't move or acknowledge Bellamy's presence, his eyes didn't shift away from the fire, but his fingers tightened their grip around the edge of the blanket that he had pulled around him.

"It's been three months, almost to the day, since Mount Weather," Bellamy spoke in a low tone, as if he felt if he spoke too loudly he would bring the sun up early.

"I don't know if Monty, or anyone else had already told you, but," he paused, drawing in a breath, watching his hands as they fiddled nervously where they hung between his knees, "I'm going after her, after Clarke."

Still no reaction, Bellamy figured as much. Nothing he said ever earned a reaction from Jasper.

"I'm going to find her, and then I'm going to make a better home for all of us, a home where we're safe, where we don't have to put up with the bullshit of the Arkers. I want you to be there Jasper, I want us all to make it there, together."

They sit in silence for a long moment, listening to the even breaths of their sleeping friends and watching the fire. The soundless heartbeats that echoed between them weren't awkward, they weren't tense. Instead, the quiet expanded with the heat of the fire, warming their skin, soothing over the pain they had both inflicted, on themselves and on each other.

Eventually, Bellamy knew he needed to wake Monty, they had a lot to get done during the day before Bellamy's team left that night. He stood, feeling his limbs stretch and ache tiredly from the stiff position he had held himself in for the last several minutes.

"Jasper, I'm sorry for what happened in Mount Weather, I'm sorry for what happened to Maya, I'm sorry we couldn't save her."

With that, he turned away, to head over to Monty and shake the boy awake, but before he could get halfway across the cabin, a voice entered the stillness of the pre-dawn air.

"You apologize, every time, before you leave."

Jasper's voice was hoarse from disuse and it broke over several syllables, but it was still a voice Bellamy recognized well. He'd heard that voice scream in fright, moan in angry, sob in grief, and he's heard that voice laugh, he's heard it tease, he's heard it instill confidence into the hearts of his friends.

Bellamy stood in the middle of the room, frozen.

"I don't think I can forgive you." Jasper spoke again, his voice small.

Bellamy smiled sadly, his back still to Jasper, as his chest tightened uncomfortably. He shook his head, his hair falling into his eyes as his chin dropped to his chest and he sucked in a ragged breath.

"That's okay Jasper. I just want you to know," he cleared his throat, choked by his own emotions, "that I will always regret killing Maya."

"You didn't kill her," Jasper whispered, and they both knew what he was implying.

"I helped, I'm responsible too, and I will never let myself forget that," Bellamy says, his words strong and steady, the fault line underneath them beginning to quake.

He moved forward, to Monty's bunk, placing a hand on his shoulder and shaking roughly, his gruff voice telling him he had ten minutes before he was supposed to meet with Raven.

Monty stirred, half awake, his eyes meeting Bellamy's in the half-light of the room.

Before Monty could see how shaken Bellamy was, the older man straightened and disappeared through the door of the cabin back into the dawning light of camp, heading toward the high wall to start what could possibly his last guard shift at Camp Jaha.

Jasper didn't speak as he felt Monty's eyes turn to him, he kept his gaze transfixed on the flames, but his hand reached out from underneath the edge of his blanket and picked up the toast that lay on the tray of breakfast Bellamy had brought him.

Miller entered the cabin, his eyes meeting Monty's before turning to Jasper, who sat quietly nibbling the crust of his toast, his own gaze never leaving the orange flames. Miller smiled to himself before he moved toward his bunk and began gathering his pack, knowing a journey lay ahead of not just him, but all of the remaining members of the 100. They were all a work in progress, on their way to a better state of being.

They just had to stay on the path.

* * *

The sun was disappearing below the horizon line as Bellamy rounded the side of the Ark, Raven's Gate coming into view and causing a nervous energy to twist through his gut before settling low in his spine.

This wouldn't be his first time sneaking out the gate, but it could possibly be his last.

He hated to admit it, but he had no idea where he was going, he had no idea where he was leading this small rag-tag team he had gathered. He didn't know what they were walking into.

That fact scared him shitless.

Although a lot of his decisions throughout his time on the Ground had been made rashly, fueled by emotion and stubbornness—nowadays he couldn't allow himself that sort of luxury. He had to make decisions with his head, he had to be strategic and thorough. He had to play both the head and the heart, because Clarke wasn't there to be the base of logic for all of their decisions. She wasn't around to talk him out of stupid decisions, so all of his effort went into steering clear of his own stupidity.

So going into a situation as blindly as he was terrified him.

He wasn't afraid for himself, but he was terrified that one of his people would suffer because of his lack of preparation, because of his lack of forethought.

Slowly, regret began to eat away at him, hollowing out his chest, shredding through his muscles, chipping at his bones until they creaked.

He should never have agreed to take a team, he should have gone alone. He should have slipped out of camp that morning after he spoke to Jasper.

Instead, he had performed his usual duties around camp. He'd been guarding the wall as the sun rose and the camp came to life, then he'd joined several members of the 100 on a construction team as they erected the walls of a new storage shed. He'd feasted on roasted deer with Miller and Lincoln and the other Guard trainees. He'd met with Kane, Abby, Jackson and Sinclair to talk about the day-to-day monotony of running Camp Jaha, where no one but Kane ever entertained any of his ideas.

Then, he'd joined his team, plus Raven, Monty and Harper for dinner around the fire pit.

Several members of the 100 had joined them, sitting around the fire, mostly in companionable silence as they dug into their meals, grateful for their full bellies. They had starved together before, they had fought together, and now they sat in solidarity.

Bellamy knew, without asking, that every member of the 100 knew about the plan. They were all well aware that after the sun set Bellamy, Miller and Monroe would slip from the camp into the shadowed forest and go in search of their former co-leader. They had complete faith in him that he would find Clarke and then find them a new home.

After supper, they'd broken apart into smaller groups and Bellamy went off alone, needing time to clear his head.. He'd walked around the perimeter of the camp, looking at all the things the Arkers had built, with the help of the delinquents. Yet they received no recognition, they barely received a kind word for their service.

Bellamy understood their frustration. After hearing Monroe's story, he understood it all on an even deeper level. They would always be seen a separate, lower class. They would always be dispensable to the Arkers.

His people were not dispensable, they meant everything to Bellamy. He had fought so hard to keep them alive this long, he wouldn't sit back and allow the Arkers to treat them like servants or hoodlums.

They deserved a better life than what the Ark could offer them.

With his beliefs reinforced, he'd returned to his cabin, retrieved his pack and then made his way to Raven's Gate.

However, he still feared for the safety of his friends, of his family—because that's what they were.

"What's got you thinking so hard?"

Bellamy's head snapped up at the sound of Raven's dry voice. The dark-haired woman was standing in the shadow of the Ark's debris, arms crossed over her chest, hip cocked, a backpack lying next to the toe of her left boot.

"I shouldn't have let Miller and Monroe agree to come with me."

There was no point in masking his concern, or bullshitting Raven, she would know immediately. In the time since their people had returned from Mount Weather, he and Raven had become a well-oiled machine. They could read each other, they knew how the other operated, and they knew when the other was full of shit.

They'd both suffered the loss of Clarke strongly, though Raven certainly handled the blonde's absence differently than Bellamy and Monty had.

But Raven hadn't been in that control room. She didn't share that particular burden. She understood that Clarke needed to go, but she didn't grasp the full depth of the situation like Bellamy and Monty did. She didn't play a role in the murder of 300 plus people, children and mothers and fathers, innocents.

Raven never allowed him to wallow, they didn't drink moonshine together and share their insecurities. Instead she pushed him, she forced him to stay sane, to stay motivated, to keep working. She was part of the reason he had been able to keep his promise to Clarke.

When his motivation waned, Raven was there to remind him why he needed to do his job.

The delinquents would be in safe hands while he was gone, he knew that. Raven and Monty respected each other, and got along well. The kids listened to them, deferred to them for decisions when Bellamy couldn't be reached or was too busy.

That fact calmed his nerves.

"They would've followed you anyways. At least this way, you've had time to prepare for a three person mission."

"Is that what this is? A mission?"

Raven shrugged, dropping her arms to her sides as she turned her body to face him, "stop worrying about them. They can take care of themselves, that's why you chose them." Her face softened, "have you spoken to Octavia?"

"No."

After his confrontation with his sister two nights ago, they hadn't spoken. He'd barely seen Octavia around camp, and even though guilt and worry gnawed at him, he had bigger issues to deal with. Like telling Councilor Kane that he was taking two kids with him on this journey to find Clarke.

Kane had been surprisingly agreeable about the decision, promised he would gather as many supplies for the team as he could while still keeping the situation low profile. Bellamy didn't doubt the man would come through. He knew Kane's respect for Clarke ran deep, because Kane saw in Clarke an Arker who had evolved into something better than anyone could have hoped. She became the leader people needed, without developing a thirst for power.

Octavia, on the other hand, had learned about the full extent of the plan from Lincoln. The ensuing argument had kept half the delinquents awake the night before until the couple took off to the woods to continue their verbal sparring.

Bellamy had tried to steer clear of the situation, knowing his presence would only make it worse.

"She'll come around," Raven assured him.

Everyone was always ensuring him that Octavia would "come around." He doubted them every time. Stubbornness ran in their blood, a trait they must have both inherited from their mother's side.

"She's still angry with Clarke."

"I can't blame her," Raven responds and Bellamy feels his shoulders tighten, as his instinct to defend Clarke rose to the surface. He'd been defending Clarke and her decisions for months now, but never to Raven.

Raven held her hands up, "I'm not saying I condone her anger, she's taken it a bit far. But I understand why she feels the way she does. Clarke made some tough decisions that had terrible outcomes that consequently affected Octavia. Then, instead of trying to deal with the consequences of her actions, Clarke left everyone else to deal with them."

Bellamy knew Raven had a point, he knew in his gut that this is how so many of the 100 felt. He knew there was anger and confusion and hurt.

Bellamy couldn't bring himself to feel any of that.

He knew he had the most right to be angry at Clarke, but he couldn't find the fire of rage anywhere inside of him.

He was tired of war, he couldn't start a war against Clarke, especially not a war that would be waged inside his own heart.

"It would've been worse for her if she stayed," he replied, his voice deep as it carried through the quickly cooling air.

Raven nodded once, "maybe. But at least she would've been here, where we could've helped make it better."

"She didn't see it that way."

"You could've made it easier for her."

Bellamy felt his whole body freeze, his heart seizing in his chest, because Raven was toeing a line that they had expressly labeled off-limits since Clarke refused to come back inside the walls of Camp Jaha with him.

"Raven," he warned.

"Bellamy, you can't keep kidding yourself."

"I can, and I will. There's no other option. Clarke left, she needed to heal herself on her own. She didn't need me for that. She needed me here."

"She will always need you Bell, for everything."

Before either of them could continue, Miller and Monroe arrived, each with a pack slung over a shoulder. Moments later Monty slipped around the corner and just after him came Marcus Kane.

Marcus had the strap of a worn pack clutched in one hand, in the other was a roll of furs.

He came to a stop in front of Bellamy, and despite the heaviness of the situation, he smiled at the younger man.

"There are extra rations and canteens in the pack. I managed to collect two extra furs for you, there's no telling how much the temperatures will drop. Winter's barely halfway through from what we can deduce and from what we've learned from Lincoln. So, stay warm." He handed Bellamy the supplies and Bellamy nodded gratefully, accepting the gifts as if they were precious gems. Miller offered to take the second pack, while Bellamy tied to the extra furs to the bottom of his pack with thick cords.

"Thank you," Bellamy says, his voice rough but his gaze steady as he looks at the older man, who he has come to respect over the past several weeks.

Marcus nodded and reached out, placing a hand on Bellamy's shoulder, "you can thank me by finding Clarke." Marcus paused, his eyes searching Bellamy's face for a long moment before he nodded once more, seeming settled by something he found in Bellamy's expression.

"And don't worry about Abby, I'll take care of her," Marcus said, patting Bellamy's shoulder before letting go. He nodded to Monroe and Miller.

"Stay alive," he said, "and good luck."

"Thank you," Bellamy said, his hands settling around the straps of his pack before he turned to Raven. The dark-haired woman slipped her arms around him and hugged him tightly.

"I gave Monroe a pack with some tech in it. There's a radio that you should only use if there is an emergency, and there are extra batteries for it, just in case. Extra ammo too." She whispered against his cheek.

"Thank you Raven."

"Don't need to thank me. I want you guys to stay alive to bring Clarke back here so I can throttle her myself for leaving me with this group of crackpot kids for so long."

Her humor was an attempt to lighten the situation, because they both knew, somewhere in the back of their minds, that this might be the last time they say each other. There were so many things that could go wrong.

Bellamy pushed those thoughts away as he turned to Monty.

He hugged the shorter man to him, "take care of them for me, okay?"

"Bring her home, okay?"

They broke apart and Bellamy nodded, his mouth set into a grim line.

Bellamy's eyes locked with Raven's and she nodded, signaling that the electrical fence was disabled and it was safe for them to pass through. Bellamy turned and stepped through the wires carefully, Miller and Monroe followed.

He paused on the other side of the fence and turned back to face the camp.

"May we meet again," Kane said, his eyes wistful, his hands loose at his sides.

"May we meet again," Bellamy said, his hand coming to rest on the butt of the pistol tucked into his waistband. He nodded, mostly to himself, and then turned into the dark forest as the sun disappeared completely and the moon exerted his reign on the Ground.

"May we meet again," he whispered to himself, to Clarke, to the moon.

* * *

The moon was high above them when Miller finally broke the tense silence that had enveloped them as they tried to put as much distance as possible between themselves and Camp Jaha before someone noticed they were gone.

"Do you have any idea where Clarke is?" Miller asked as he fell into step beside Bellamy.

Bellamy's eyes darted through the darkness, his vision having adjusted to the reduced light, his ears were pricked for any stray noise not made by their careful footsteps.

"Not really, no," he responded distractedly because just southeast of their position he could hear movement, something brushing along the undergrowth, causing leaves to scrape against one another.

Someone was following them, someone not careful enough to exhibit actual stealth.

Miller opened his mouth to respond but Bellamy held out an arm. The white's of Miller's eyes shone starkly in the darkness as Bellamy looked at him, and then to Monroe.

Bellamy licked his lips, "someone is following us."

Not a moment later, the thick vegetation to their left gave birth to sudden noise and then two figures emerged.

"It's not like we were trying to keep it a secret, anyway."

Bellamy blinked in surprise, because standing in the glow of the heavy moon, was his sister and just to her left stood Lincoln, a heavy pack slung over his shoulder.

"You need to go back to camp now, you know it's not safe for you out here," Bellamy said, his eyes intent on Lincoln. Lexa had put out a kill order on Lincoln shortly after his indirect desertion. There were constantly scouts out in the forest prowling, just waiting to catch Lincoln too far outside Camp Jaha's walls.

"No, if you're going in search of Clarke, I am coming with you," Lincoln spoke in that steady voice of his, not belying any emotion, but determination shone in his dark eyes.

"I can't put you in that sort of danger," Bellamy argued, his eyes darting to his sister, surprised she wasn't shrieking furiously at her lover for the decision he was trying to force upon them.

"You aren't," Lincoln assured quickly.

Bellamy remained tight lipped as he stared at the man, "Lincoln, it's too-"

Octavia cuts him off, "he wants to do this Bell, and you can't stop him. Not even I could stop him from coming out here after you."

Bellamy swallowed, "Octavia," he began but she shook her head quickly.

"Don't worry big brother, I'm not trying to join this suicide mission to save the princess from herself." There was a biting tone to Octavia's voice that caused both Lincoln and Bellamy to flinch.

Bellamy couldn't help the relief that swept through him when Octavia revealed she wasn't in any hurry to join him on this mission. He didn't want her out in the forest with him, he wanted her back at camp where she was safe.

That's where he wanted Lincoln too, because, as much as he was loathe to admit it, Lincoln equated to Octavia's happiness, and Bellamy would do anything within his power to keep his sister happy.

Lincoln could still sense the reluctance in Bellamy and quickly spoke, "do you even have any leads on where Clarke might be?"

Bellamy paused and silence dripped between them for a long moment before Bellamy shook his head, feeling helplessness creep into his chest.

"I might," Lincoln continued, "Nyko came to me a few nights ago. Said he'd heard mutterings from some of the smaller villages about a woman they called _Wanheda_."

"Wanheda?" Monroe echoed, confusion laced in her tone, her tongue clumsy around the accent.

"Commander of death," Octavia translated, her eyes boring into her brother's.

"Clarke," Bellamy surmised quickly.

"Yes, I believe so," Lincoln nodded in confirmation, "I can take you to where Nyko last heard she was spotted."

"Can't you just draw us a map?" Bellamy asked wryly, trying with all his might to keep Lincoln, and consequently his sister, safe.

"I know the area well, it'd be beneficial to you if I came as well."

Bellamy's stubborn streak reared it's head and he was ready to argue more vehemently when his sister stepped forward, placing her hand on his forearm.

"Bell, let him do this."

Bellamy's eyes lifted and met with his sister's. "It's not safe for him, Octavia."

"It's not safe for you either." She sighed, an internal warm tugging with her features as she averted her gaze and curled her free hand into a fist, "and it's not safe for Clarke."

Octavia's words stunned him, because they were the last words he expected to come out of Octavia's mouth.

"I may be angry with her, and I may talk a big game about hating her, but I don't want her to die out there because," she paused, her voice catching as she looked up at him, "because I know what that would do to you."

Bellamy stared at his little sister, wondering when he had become so transparent to her, wondering if he was this transparent to everyone, of if she really just knew him better than anyone else on the Ground.

"I know you'd never let me come with you, so when Lincoln told me about what Nyko said, I thought maybe he should come with you. Lincoln wants to do this, and I think I want him to do this, with you."

"O," his voice was soft as his brows furrowed.

"Go find her Bell, and then find us a new home."

* * *

 _Reviews feed my soul xo_


	6. Birds of a Feather

**Title:** I Surrender Who I've Been (For Who You Are)

 **Part 6 of 16:** Birds of a Feather

 **Genre:** Romance, Angst, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, Drama

 **Rating:** T, for language and possible sexual situations

 **Word Count:** 6, 151

 **Characters (Fic):** Bellamy Blake, Clarke Griffin, Monty Green, Marcus Kane, Raven Reyes, Lexa

 **Characters (Chapter):** Bellamy, Lincoln, Miller, Monroe, Clarke

 **Summary:** Of all the connections forged since The 100 landed on the Ground, theirs was the strongest. Based in survival, built upon trust and shared responsibility, furnished with respect and absolution. They saved their people, because that's who they were. They saved each other because that's what they deserved. They will never stop saving each other, together. Bellarke.

 **A/N:** Sorry for the wait on this chapter! Life's been a little crazy, and Season 3 hasn't done anything to help inspire me. It's really just stressing me out.

Thank you so much for the reviews! You guys are absolutely amazing! Thank you so much for reading! I know I didn't get back to everyone individually, this semester has been kicking my ass—but know I read all of your reviews and I appreciate each and every one. xoxoxoNelly

 **Disclaimer:** I do not own The 100 or any of it's characters. Lyrics are from "Birds of a Feather" by The Civil Wars

* * *

" _Where she walks, no flowers bloom_

 _He's the one I see right through_

 _She's the absinthe on my lips_

 _The splinter in my fingertips_

 _But who could do without you?_

 _And who could do without you?_

 _She's the sea I'm sinkin' in_

 _He's the ink under my skin_

 _Sometimes I can't tell where I am_

 _Where I leave off and he begins"_

– "Birds of a Feather" by The Civil Wars

* * *

"So, that's the village where Nyko last heard of _Wanheda_?" Bellamy asked as he stood at the crest of a hill. Lincoln stood behind him in a small break in the treeline, where they could gaze at the village below without being too conspicuous.

Lincoln nodded, his eyes lifting from the roofs of the village to study Bellamy's profile.

"Does she usually integrate herself with the people?" Bellamy asked, a muscle in his jaw jumping, but he kept his eyes steadily on the thatched roofs and wooden walls of the buildings in the distance.

"No, from what Nyko heard, she trades meat she's caught for supplies and then leaves. She never stays in a village overnight."

Bellamy turned away from the village, his eyes searching through the dense wooded area they'd just hiked through.

"Then she's somewhere out there."

Lincoln stayed silent, knowing that what little information he did have about Clarke really did nothing to help them find her. It just gave them a general direction—East.

They'd traveled east, for two days, until they reached the village where Nyko had last heard of a _Wanheda_ sighting. Now, it was all a guessing game. The rumors were too old for a trail left by Clarke to be fresh. The only chance they'd find her in the area is if she had some sort of permanent hideaway in the nearby woods.

"Where else has she been spotted?" Bellamy asked, his brows furrowed.

"Two more villages, one less than a days walk to the south. Another about a days walk to the north." Lincoln answered.

"Has she been spotted in any of those villages more than once?"

"Yes, in the village to the north. Nyko heard of her visiting three times."

"We'll head that way tomorrow. The sun's about to go down, no use setting out now."

"You don't want to talk to the villagers?" Lincoln asked, surprised, he thought Bellamy would want to chase down the lead to it's source. Lincoln had created a list of people he knew from the village who would talk to them confidentially and not turn them in to their _heda_.

"No, if Clarke doesn't stay longer than a few hours in the village, I doubt she's spoken to anyone about herself. No one down there will know anything more than we do. The risk of going down there is too great, it wouldn't be worth whatever information we found."

Lincoln knew Bellamy was trying to protect him, for Octavia's sake, but Lincoln knew what it was like to be separated from someone who knew your own heart so intimately. Regardless of what Bellamy had admitted to himself or to Clarke, Lincoln knew that the bond between the two co-leaders ran deeper than friendship.

Bellamy had forgiven him, just as Octavia had, for the things he had done while under the influence of the Red, while still fighting the temptation of the Red. Clarke is the one who had saved him from being indefinitely claimed by the Reaper inside of him. Without either of them, Lincoln would never have returned to Octavia. He owed them a debt far greater than he could ever repay.

Helping Bellamy find Clarke was just the beginning of his restitution.

"If you want to go speak to them, I will go with you." Lincoln spoke steadily.

Bellamy's eyes met Lincoln's and he shook his head, "I said it's not worth it, we move on."

Lincoln didn't argue, he didn't have the chance to, as Bellamy turned and made his way back to their camp.

Lincoln sighed, his eyes returning to the rising smoke emitted from a large building in the center of the village.

" _She won't be easy to find."_ Octavia had told him, when he explained he wanted to join Bellamy in the search for Clarke. _"She left for a reason. She doesn't want to be found, she wants to come home when she's ready."_

" _We might not have the time to wait for her to be ready."_ He gad replied. The look in Octavia's eyes told him she understood the gravity of the situation immediately. She nodded once, and he knew she wouldn't stop him.

Lincoln knew of the growing tensions in the camp, he felt the stares of the Arkers, he knew he looked just as out of place as he felt. He sympathized with the delinquents, he wanted a home where he was welcomed, where he was accepted and respected for what he offered their people. He would never have that at Camp Jaha, regardless of how hard he tried to prove himself, regardless of what jacket he wore, or what job he held.

Bellamy and Clarke respected him, they would accept him when they found their own land to settle with the 100.

Lincoln would make his home there, with Octavia.

With his people.

* * *

Bellamy threw a slightly damp log onto the fire and huffed down at the defeated flame he was trying to coax to life.

It'd been two days since he and Lincoln had stared down at the small village where _Wanheda_ had been spotted. The village to the north was only supposed to be a days trek from there, but a sudden rainstorm had halted their pace, forcing the four young adults to take shelter in a cave for most of the previous afternoon and throughout the night.

Now, the forest was beginning to dry out again, but the sun was slowly slipping below the horizon line in the west, leaving them once again in damp darkness.

Bellamy was frustrated by the slow pace paired with his drenched socks that squelched in his boots, rubbing against the sole awkwardly, leaving the ball of his right foot heavily blistered.

His dark curls still clung wetly to his forehead, but his shirt was finally starting to dry, leaving the material scratchy against his skin. The fabric pulled at the raised skin of the scars on his back causing an involuntary shudder to echo down his spine.

He was trying not to take his frustration out at the rest of his team. They were managing the best they could, they had no control over the storm or the environment. Miller and Monroe gave him a wide birth as they set up their tent for the night. Bellamy had told them he would take first watch, so they could sleep.

Lincoln was off amongst the trees to find them some dinner. They had ration packs, but while they could still hunt, they had agreed to eat off the land and leave the rations for back up in case they ran into an emergency situation where they were unable to hunt.

Bellamy had been left in charge of starting the fire, but even that was frustrating him. His kindling was stubbornly refusing to grow into anything larger than a weak, flickering flame.

Hopelessness began to encroach on the back of his mind and he felt the tension knotting his shoulders. Bellamy pulled several deep breaths through his nose as he tried to remain calm, as he tried not to lash out over something so miniscule in the scheme of things. Yes, a fire was important, but they weren't going to die if he failed to make a flame at this very moment.

He could just ask Miller to take over the fire-building duty, a simple fix.

But Bellamy was too stubborn to pass off this simple task to Miller, instead, he stared down at the weak ember feeling helpless.

Helpless.

There was the core of the issue that had Bellamy so on edge.

He couldn't find her.

He'd let her go, believing that when she was ready she'd come back. But now he needed her and he couldn't find her. He'd lost her.

Everyone was depending on him to find Clarke, to convince her to talk to Lexa about granting them access to some of the Grounders' land.

Why did they all depend on him when he couldn't even start a simple fucking fire?

"You okay, Bellamy?"

Miller's voice roused him from his thoughts and his head shot up suddenly, he scrambled to hide the insecurities that had been so plainly displayed on his features a moment before.

When he met Miller's eyes, he knew the younger man had witnessed every emotion that had fled across his face. However, there was no judgment in his dark eyes, just a firm understanding and unyielding support. It was a support given without words, but with action. Miller was here because he'd asked, because Bellamy had wanted him to be in his search party. Miller's loyalty was something he never needed to question.

"Yeah, just...having a hard time with this fire."

"Don't worry about it, I've got it. The canteens are low, if you wanted to go fill them at the stream we passed earlier?" Miller framed it as a suggestion, not a demand or an order, because the young man had tact when it came to addressing Bellamy. He had worked alongside the older man for long enough to know how to word things properly so that Bellamy would actually process them instead of reacting defensively.

Bellamy swallowed his gratitude and instead just nodded once before moving to gather their canteens tying their straps together and slinging them over his shoulder.

"I'll be back soon."

"Take your time, if you need it," Miller called after him as Bellamy made his way into the forest, following the muddy tracks they'd made earlier in the day.

The moment after Bellamy disappeared into the treeline, he let is shoulders relax completely, knowing he no longer had to work so hard to hide his frustration with himself, with Clarke and with this situation.

He released a shuddering sigh as he followed their tracks through the reddish-brown mud, retracing the trail they'd made, feeling his vexation ease more and more with each step he took. Each time his boots sunk into the tacky earth he grounded himself into his surroundings, and he removed himself from the spiral his mind had begun to take.

He would find Clarke, he would search for years if he had to.

He would find her, because he needed her.

He needed her, not just to strike a deal with Lexa, but take back her share of the burden of leading. Bellamy had been carrying the crown for much too long and he wasn't sure how much longer he could keep a straight spine and a head held high before his bones began to crack and split under the weight and expectations.

Bellamy really had not choice but to find her, for his own sake.

He froze suddenly as the breeze shifted and something caught his eye.

Red. A deep crimson liquid mottled a leaf just to the right of his forearm. Blood reflected the dying light of the sun, blinking grimly at him.

His eyes trekked ahead of the leaf, to find more of the shrubbery covered in the blood as well.

Something had left a trail of blood, and it was fresh. Whatever it was had just passed through, right before Bellamy had come along.

He set his jaw before tying the canteens onto the belt loop of his cargo pants, and then he carefully stepped off the trail he and his team had made, and he followed the trail marked by blood-spotted leafs.

Apprehension filled his limbs as all the possibilities of what could have left this trail spun through his mind quickly. A rational voice in the back of his head told him to turn back, but another part of him—some sort of instinct gnawing at his gut—told him to continue forward, to see where the trail lead, to answer the questions buzzing in his mind.

He kept himself as low as possible, and made very little noise as he moved, trying to mask his presence in case whatever left the trail was dangerous, or if there was some other, larger predator also following this same trail.

His eyes scanned ahead of him, mapping out his route, but as he pulled himself up onto a rock without using his hands, his ankle rolled and he was forced to catch himself on a nearby tree trunk, a loud snap echoing from underneath where his boot had clumsily broken a fallen branch in half.

He froze, his heart thundering in his chest. He waited for movement, for a sound, for something to acknowledge his presence.

Nothing came.

Carefully, he pushed himself upright and tested his ankle for any injury. It was fine. Not sprained or pulled or hurting.

He lifted his eyes to the trail once more and realized that in a few yards, the trees fell away into a small clearing that was covered in patches of tall grass intersected by paths of dirt that had no vegetation sprouting from them.

But there, just off to the right of the center of the clearing, a dark shape was slumped in the grass.

Resuming his silent progress, Bellamy moved forward toward the clearing. He stropped at the forest edge, his eyes darting around, but he found nothing watching him or the strange figure.

He broke into the clearing and made his way over to the body.

His gait slowed as he approached and realized that the slumped figure belong to a dark furred panther that was bleeding from a large gash in the side of its neck.

Bellamy swallowed thickly, placing his hand over the panthers chest to check for movement. Nothing. The panther was dead.

And whatever had killed it was still out there.

Every muscle in his body tensed, the hairs on his arms stood on end as suddenly adrenaline shot through his veins. He was prepared to fight or flee depending on whether the predator attacked or kept its distance. Bellamy knew he should leave the kill and not invade any further on the predator's hunting ground and meal, so slowly, he began to lift himself form his crouch.

Undergrowth rustled behind him, alerting his senses as he spun quickly on his heel.

The sight at the other end of the clearing caused him to freeze, his muscles seizing until they were locked in paralysis.

Blond hair muted by blood and grime, haloing a face he could never wipe from his mind.

Clarke.

A bow clutched in her hand, a quiver of handmade arrows slung over her back, blood spattering her forearms.

He could hear his heartbeat whoosh in his ears, too loud to be normal. He felt suddenly cold, as if his blood had turned to ice beneath the thin layer of his skin. The air around him felt oppressive with the pressure it placed on his bones.

It was her.

"Clarke."

The word, her name, came out barely above a whisper—hoarse and broken, cut from his lungs abruptly without his permission and his whole body jolted at the unexpected timbre of his voice.

He blinked, and she was gone.

The bushes she had bolted through swayed back into place from where she had so brusquely pushed them aside.

Instinct drove him forward suddenly, in pursuit, the fear of losing her again clutching at the red organ inside of his ribcage that had been beating in solitude for months.

But after just a few steps he slowed to a stop. He knew better than to chase after her.

She had fled, like a scared animal, at just the sight of him. Chasing after her would only make the situation more stressful for the both of them. He knew Clarke, and he knew cornering her would end badly. He had to let them come at this reunion on equal ground, one could not force the other into this. It would never work that way.

Bellamy sighed, but relief lessened the weight that had been pulling his shoulder blades toward the ground.

She was alive, she was surviving.

He repeated those two phrases in his head as he made his way to the stream and filled the canteens mechanically, and then followed the sparse trail back to camp.

Lincoln was busy skinning one of the rabbits he'd caught when Bellamy set the canteens down heavily next to him. Lincoln glanced up at Bellamy, and his knife ground to a halt against the rabbit's pelt as he took in the expression on Bellamy's face.

"What happened?" He asked, voice on edge, ready to move into action if Bellamy's words even hinted at a dire situation brewing.

"Clarke's here."

Lincoln blinked and then set the knife and the rabbit down, rising to his feet.

"Here?" He asked, glancing at the forest that Bellamy had just emerged from, but found no other figure waiting there.

Bellamy shook his head slightly, realizing how confusing his words must sound, "not here, here," he emphasized with a shake of his hands at his sides, "but I saw her."

"Where?"

"She was hunting, I found her kill, and she found me." Bellamy explained, his eyes darting about their camp, landing momentarily on the blazing fire that Miller had no doubt brought to life, and then darting back to Lincoln's dark eyes.

"What did she say?" Lincoln asked, crowding slightly closer, his body ready to begin the search for Clarke.

"Nothing," Bellamy's voice was gruff.

Lincoln leaned back slightly at the other man's response, his brows furrowed. "Did you say anything?"

"I called out to her, but she ran. Didn't have much of a chance to say anything else." Bellamy's tone held a touch of nonchalance, but Lincoln noted the pain that burned in Bellamy's eyes.

It was a look that Lincoln had come to associate with Bellamy over the past few months. Bellamy would never voice his inner turmoil out loud, he would never confess that Clarke's actions hurt him on a level that he couldn't express or explain. But Lincoln recognized this pain, and tried to lend his sympathy in the most subtle ways possible. He wasn't sure if Bellamy had caught on or not, but there were moments where Bellamy would grasp his shoulder or meet his eyes with a subtle nod of his head that conveyed silent gratitude. If anything, the two men had a silent understanding. They were family now, regardless of whether they had wanted to be in the beginning, but now they respected each other profoundly and used each other for support.

"Well, at least we know we're in the right place," Lincoln said, with a nod, "we should tell Miller and Monroe the good news."

"Yeah," Bellamy responded brokenly, placing his hands on his hips and nodding, shaking his dark curls onto his forehead.

Lincoln reached out, placing a warm hand on Bellamy's shoulder, "you found her."

He wanted to correct Lincoln that Clarke had actually found him, but before he could form the words, Lincoln had already stepped away toward the tents Miller had set up earlier, where the two other members of their team were taking stock of their supplies.

Bellamy watched the expressions on Miller and Monroe's faces as they received the news. Miller smiled tamely before meeting Bellamy's eyes. Bellamy tried to force his mouth into some sort of smile, but found his expression lacking. Miller's face sobered and he just nodded his understanding before turning back to Monroe and Lincoln.

Bellamy settled himself down on the log where Lincoln had been previously sitting, picking up the rabbit and continuing the task of skinning the animal so they could cook the meat. After several moments, the three other young adults gathered around him, taking up tasks to contribute to their evening meal.

"So, what's the plan?" Monroe asked out loud. Silence greeted her for a moment until Bellamy glanced up and realized she was speaking directly to him, her gaze unwavering.

Something unfurled slightly in Bellamy's chest when his eyes moved from Monroe to Miller and then to Lincoln and realized they were all looking to him, waiting for him to lead.

This was a position he was familiar with, it was one he was comfortable with. He was with people he trusted, he was on the search for his partner who he knew better than anyone else at Camp Jaha. If anyone could find Clarke and get through to her, it would be him. And with his friends working at his side, trusting in his leadership, he knew he could succeed in finding Clarke, in convincing Lexa and in securing a new home for his people.

"We wait. We patrol the forest to look for signs of movement. Clarke might try to run, and if she does, we need to know where she's going." He paused, his tongue pressed to the inside of his cheek, "if she doesn't run then we find a way to approach her that doesn't make her feel threatened or pursued." He sighed, rolling his shoulders back, "best case scenario is she comes to us."

"So we shouldn't move camp, in case she does come to us," Miller suggested and Bellamy nodded in agreement.

"We'll patrol in pairs, Lincoln and I will go first later tonight. I'll show you where I found her kill, she might still be in the area because it was a large haul. But she might have abandoned it." Bellamy explained as he finished skinning their third and final rabbit. He handed the carcass off to Lincoln, who set apart sectioning off the meat to be cooked.

"Regardless, it's a good place to start looking," Lincoln agreed as he handled his carving knife with expert hands. His physical body focused on the task before him, but his mind was obviously whirring through the possibilities of how to locate Clarke and convince her to speak to them.

"What if we find her and you're not with us?" Monroe asked, directing her question at Bellamy.

The question took him aback for a moment. His connection to Clarke never surprised him, but it always did take him by surprise when others mentioned their relationship. It always shocked him that other people noticed how well he and Clarke worked together, how deep their partnership ran.

"If I'm not with you, and she seems interested in talking, then send one of you to find me. Or bring her back to camp if she's willing to come."

"And if she runs?" Miller asked, voice grave, his eyes on the fire.

"Let her run. I refuse to hunt her down. She's not an animal."

"She's scared." Lincoln added.

"She left Camp Jaha for a reason." Bellamy didn't elaborate on what her reason was, partially because it wasn't something he felt comfortable sharing with others without Clarke's permission, and partially because he didn't understand the complexity of Clarke's emotions after what they'd done at Mount Weather. "She didn't want us to come after her, she's probably angry that we're here."

The group was silent for several moments as Lincoln and Monroe began to roast the rabbits over their fire. Bellamy stood, stretching out his aching limbs as his eyes surveyed the surrounding forest.

She could be watching them from somewhere in the darkness, or she could already be a couple miles away if she'd decided to run immediately after their encounter in the woods.

Miller and Monroe's voices filtered into his eardrums, but something within the treeline was holding his attention steadily. He felt watched, and it wasn't the typical paranoia he was used to when they lived at the drop ship camp and were waiting for Grounders to fall upon them with spears. It was different.

He felt like he was being preyed upon.

"Lincoln," he called.

Miller and Monroe's voiced dropped off as they registered Bellamy's serious tone.

"I feel it too," Lincoln said, voice low, his eyes peering into the darkness.

"Can you tell what it is?"

"Not exactly. But it's large."

A curse left Bellamy's mouth as his eyes darted over to where his gun was strapped to his pack, next to the opening of his tent at least a few yards away.

"Miller, throw me my gun. Move slowly."

The younger man took precaution with his movements, making sure they were slow and calculated as he slipped the gun from it's makeshift holster. He took a deep breath as he pivoted on his heels to face Bellamy.

"Steady," Bellamy breathed, his eyes never leaving their invisible enemy.

Just as the gun slipped from Miller's hand and took to the air, the predator burst from the trees.

Bellamy had never seen anything quite so large. Bigger than the two-headed deer they'd hunted early on in their time on the Ground, larger than the muscled panthers that had been a constant menace in the woods.

It was huge, possibly twice his own height, covered in thick, brown fur that belied a stocky, muscled frame beneath. The creature wasn't fast like a panther, but it's steps shook the ground enough to make Bellamy's heart jolt with fear.

"Run!" he yelled to Monroe and Miller as he dove to catch the gun Miller had thrown. He rolled through his momentum as he landed, turning in time to face the beast as it thundered into their camp. He raised his gun, aiming a shot at the beast just as it loomed over him.

Distantly, he heard Lincoln grasping for his blade and Miller loading his own rifle, but Bellamy knew they would both be too late, because Bellamy's gun wasn't loaded.

Claws dug into his thigh, thick and at least three inches in length, maybe longer. He bit back a pained cry, and silently hoped someone would be fast enough to save him as the beast began to drag him beneath it's hulking frame.

Bellamy closed his eyes as the beast's musky breath draped over him. It's breath wheezed past sharp teeth and a bristled muzzle. Bellamy awaited the pain, and felt liquid spatter across his face—the beast's saliva. Then, the claws were ripped from his flesh, and the weight of the beast that had been hanging over him was gone.

Bellamy opened his eyes, pushing himself up on his elbows to see the beast turning toward the tree line, growling deep in it's barreled chest.

An arrow protruded from the beast's cheek, and when Bellamy raised his hand to wipe at his face, it came away red with blood.

An _arrow._

Bellamy's eyes lifted to the trees, and sure enough, there was Clarke, perched high in a tree, her bow in hand, another arrow knocked and ready to be loosed into the beast's flesh.

"Bellamy!" Miller called, and Bellamy turned to the younger man in time to catch the gun that was thrown at him, this one prepared to take a shot.

Bellamy swung back around, weapon in hand and aimed as best he could for the beast's heart. He fired, and the bullet lodged itself in the animal's thick side, but didn't seem to strike anything vital.

The beast was enraged by the attacks from multiple sides and thus it spun back toward the camp and thrashed forward, heading for the first body that it saw—Monroe.

Monroe was one of the most fearless girls Bellamy had ever met, standing in his mind alongside his sister and Clarke, but in that moment he saw the fear in her eyes, making her for once appear as young as she truly was.

None of them were fast enough as the beast reached out with one of it's massive paws, claws extended, and swatted at the small girl. Monroe was thrown halfway across the camp and landed with a thud and a sickening crack.

Miller opened fire on the beast as Lincoln approached it as well, his curved blade brandished in front of him.

"Bellamy, aim for it's head," Clarke's voice came from just to his left and as he turned his head to look at her, she ran past him, her bow still drawn.

Her blue eyes met his for a brief moment before she turned her gaze back to the beast. She arced around the perimeter of the camp, hopping up onto a boulder to get a better angle and then aimed for the beast's skull.

Bellamy followed her suggestion, aiming for the beast, but it was swinging it's head wildly as Miller relentlessly shot at it while Lincoln slashed at its flanks.

With a roar the beast spun, it's jaws snapping just inches from Lincoln's chest, and in that very moment an arrow zipped across the clearing, burrowing itself in the beast's eye socket.

The animal's anguished cry shook the forest.

"Bellamy, shoot it now!" Clarke yelled as the beast flailed, narrowly missing Lincoln again.

Bellamy waited a fraction of a moment for Lincoln to move out of his line of fire. Lincoln ducked under the beast's arm and thrust his blade up into the animal's chest as Bellamy squeezed the trigger of his gun, his aim perfect, landing between the beast's eyes.

Lincoln retracted his blade from the flesh of the animal and moved out of the way as the beast fell to the packed dirt beneath it.

Bellamy dropped to his knees, the pain in his thigh resurfacing as the adrenaline diminished in his blood stream suddenly as the beast took it's last breath.

Lincoln turned to him but he shook his head, pointing toward the crumpled body of their friend, "Monroe first."

Lincoln nodded gravely, turning in the opposite direction, reaching Monroe just after Miller, crouching down next to the young girl.

Bellamy turned his gaze on Clarke, who was still standing at the edge of the clearing. Her breathing was labored, and her eyes were transfixed on the beast she had helped take down.

Feeling his gaze upon her, Clarke turned to meet his eyes. Her gaze flicked down to his thigh, where blood was seeping from the three puncture wounds slowly.

Using what strength he could muster, he pushed himself to his feet, ignoring the pain in his thigh and made his way toward Clarke.

He half expected her to run, but when she didn't he tried not to let his shock show. Her body tensed with each step he took, but she still didn't flee.

He came to a stop a few feet from her, a safe distance, one that didn't seem threatening or overbearing.

"Thank you," his voice was hoarse, from yelling or from the emotions that welled inside of him from knowing she had saved his life just moments ago, he wasn't sure.

She swallowed and then nodded before her eyes flickered to Monroe.

"Her arm is definitely broken, as well as a few of her ribs," Lincoln called from where he was kneeling next to Monroe.

Bellamy's eyes remained on Clarke, "we could use your help again."

Her eyes met his again and silence stretched between them for a moment. His breaths seemed to stick to the insides of his lungs as he waited for her to respond.

Finally, she nodded again and slung her bow over her shoulder. She strode past him, toward Monroe, the role of healer taking over her features. Bellamy tried to hide the sardonic curl of his lips as he turned and followed her at a much slower pace.

She immediately began to issue orders, ignoring the solemn looks that Lincoln and Miller gave her, looks that were infused with relief and gratitude. She brushed them off and set to work healing her friend.

"I need supplies to make a splint, so I can set her arm back in place. I'll also need something to wrap her ribs with. After I've set her arm, we can move her into the tent and I can finish tending to her other wounds," she explained and then belatedly added, "and I can look at Bellamy's leg."

There was silence for a moment as Miller and Lincoln both looked to Bellamy. The silence ended when Bellamy spoke, "you heard her."

Miller and Lincoln both set into action, gathering what medical supplies they had in the packs as well as finding some thin yet sturdy branches Clarke could use as a splint for Monroe's arm. Bellamy moved to gather ropes and extra cloth to use as bindings but was stopped immediately by Clarke's voice.

"You need to sit down at put some pressure on your wound. You don't need to lose any more blood than you already have." She ordered without even looking at him, just motioning toward a nearby log where he could sit.

Bellamy breathed out a dry chuckle, but followed her orders, lowering himself down onto the log. Clarke tossed him one of the torn pieces of cloth that Miller had fetched from their packs and Bellamy pressed the fabric into his wound.

He watched her work in silence as she set Monroe's bone and stitched the split skin back together before bracing the girl's arm between two straight branches and wrapping the whole contraption tightly in place. She then moved to the girls ribs, wrapping those as well as Miller and Lincoln built a makeshift stretcher which they then transferred Monroe onto and carried her into her tent.

Bellamy didn't move from his spot as the others continued to assist Clarke. A few moments after they'd disappeared into the tent, Lincoln reappeared and made his way toward Bellamy.

"Clarke says Monroe will make it. She's lost a lot of blood, but she doesn't think there's any extensive internal damage that could cause problems later. Clarke's finishing up with her right now."

"Good, that's," Bellamy sighed heavily, his hand massaging at his temples, covering his eyes briefly, "that's good to hear. I thought she was done for when I saw that thing just throw her across the camp."

"Me too," Lincoln spoke softly, his eyes on the ground.

A moment later, rustling from the tent's flap disrupted their silence, and Clarke's blond head appeared.

Her eyes found Bellamy immediately as she made her way over, their first aid kit in her arms. Lincoln nodded at Clarke as she approached and moved away as she set the kit down and knelt in front of Bellamy.

The didn't speak as she set about cutting away the leg of his pants so that she could get to the puncture wounds that lay in a bowed semi-circle just above his kneecap.

She rinsed the wound out and then sterilized a needle before beginning to stitch the wounds closed.

"They're deep, but they should heal fine." She spoke with an even voice as she placed the medical supplies back into the box and sat back on her heels.

She tilted her head back to meet his gaze but didn't add any other words.

"Thank you," he said the words again to her, for a second time that day.

She looked uncomfortable receiving his gratitude and her eyes flickered away from his relentless gaze.

She poured water onto a scrap of cloth and then rose up on her knees, gently taking his face in her hands and beginning to wipe away the beast's blood that marred his features.

"I figured you've come this far to find me, you might as well stay alive long enough to hear me tell you I'm not coming back to Camp Jaha with you."

Her words were abrasive, defensive. They were spoken with a deliberate motive to anger and hurt him. She was trying to make him angry, trying to get him to lash out and leave without actually talking to her.

She settled back on her heels again to wring out the cloths, and wet it again with clean water to finish off her task.

"Well then, it's a good thing I'm not here to ask you to come back to Camp Jaha."

Her eyes flew to his face, landing on his smug smirk and tired eyes.

Behind her, the fire Miller had stoked to life hours earlier blazed on, unaffected by the dead beast, or the injured girl in the tent, or the shocked expression that contorted Clarke's face, or the silent contentment that filled Bellamy when he realized he could still surprise Clarke.

The night darkened around them, but in the firelight, Bellamy and Clarke rediscovered the bond that had tied them together since they first landed on the Ground, and they realized that not even time, or distance, or misplaced guilt could destroy that bond—no matter how they hurt the people they loved, or how they hurt each other.

* * *

 _review? xo_


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